


Giving

by silentsaebyeok



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fic Collection [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (about Ben...don't worry I don't believe in killing Tony...that would be mean and awful), Angst, Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Bad Things Happen Bingo, Christmas, Don't copy to another site, Found Family Bingo, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt May Parker (Spider-Man), Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) Needs a Hug, May Parker POV, Mental Health Issues, POV Peter Parker, POV Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, platonic co-parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21801850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentsaebyeok/pseuds/silentsaebyeok
Summary: Peter couldn’t stand it any longer. Any of it.He had to do something. He couldn’t stand the idea of Christmas morning arriving without even the tree up. And he knew May wouldn’t do it. She was at work right now, but Peter knew the second she came home she would lock herself in her room, and he would have to listen to her cry. Over and over again. Not being able to do anything.Peter sighed. He’d never set up the tree on his own before, and just like everything else these days, it seemed like a monumental and insurmountable task. But he had to do it. He knew it would make May feel better, even if she wouldn’t admit it. It would be wonderful for her to come home and see the apartment look a little bit more like itself.--Or, a story about two Christmases, a year apart, but two totally different experiences. And the family Peter lost and gained along the way.
Relationships: Ben Parker/May Parker (Spider-Man), May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fic Collection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1498412
Comments: 25
Kudos: 76





	Giving

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all and welcome to my first ever Christmas fic! :) This work is dedicated to everyone who’s had to spend a “first Christmas” without someone you deeply love. Hopefully you’ve been able to find someone who can help fill that hole, and if you haven’t, I hope you find your Tony Stark someday. And yeah, that probably sounds super cheesy, but I really mean it. I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas. <3  
> \--  
> The chapter titles for this fic come from the lyrics to the song "Believe" by Josh Groban from the movie The Polar Express.  
> \--  
> This work was written for the prompts "financial trouble" for Bad Things Happen Bingo, and "holidays" for Found Family Bingo.

**December 2015**

The first Christmas was hard. Really hard. The first one without Ben. Peter felt like he was drifting. Floating through life in a haze. Ben had only been gone a month. It felt like an instant and an eternity all at once. A whole month without his uncle. His rock. The person he could turn to no matter what.

That’s why he felt like he was drifting. Ben talked about power and responsibility in the hours before… everything. But Peter didn’t feel powerful without him around. And he didn’t feel responsible either. Not when May was drifting just as much as he was. Not when May was crying each and every day. Because it was his fault, and he knew it too.

Christmas was just around the corner. Tomorrow was the last day of school before the break. But for the first time in his young life, Peter didn’t want a break from school. He didn’t want to be at home. He didn’t want the newly empty spaces that would have previously been filled with Ben—with his laugh, his smile and his scent—to taunt him. He didn’t want to hear May lock her bedroom door and cry into her pillow. Because no matter what he did, if he was in the apartment, he could hear it now.

Adjusting to his new-found abilities was hard enough with Ben around, but now… he felt out of place and uncomfortable in his own skin. A failure who left his aunt a widow. A failure who left himself without an adult who could care for him. Because May sure wasn’t capable of it right now.

He stared out the classroom window. Ignoring Ms. Warren as she went on about continuous function and graphs and equations. Thinking too much. Too far in his own head.

Drifting.

Peter was drifting like the snowflakes as they made their decent through the sky, gently touching the ground and sticking there. Mesmerizing him. Soothing him in a way not even the straightforwardness of math could. At least not in this moment.

He wasn’t doing well in school. Most of his teachers had lightened his workload and let him turn things in late, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything. His brain was either on the constant repeat of _Ben’s gone, Ben’s gone, Ben’s gone,_ or absent altogether. It was impossible to do his homework when May was crying into her pillow or leaving the apartment at random times without saying goodbye. It made him worry she wouldn’t ever come home. It made him worry that he would lose her too.

So, he didn’t turn in most of his assignments. And he didn’t pay attention in class. He knew he was going to lose his scholarship to Midtown, but no matter how hard he tried, he was constantly drowning in a sea of unfinished homework and pitying glances from teachers and students alike. Everything felt oppressive. The walls were pushing in on him from all four sides. But caring was beyond his emotional capacity at the moment. He just had to stay alive.

The ringing bell and flurry of motion that went along with it brought him out of his stupor. But his usual vigor that came at being set free from his final class of the day was gone. Instead of gathering his pencils and notebooks and backpack at the same speed as the other students, he sluggishly put his things away one-by-one, slowly and with the kind of care that wasn’t usually associated with Peter Parker.

And when he was done, he was the only student left in the class.

Looking around, he noticed Ms. Warren staring at him. Clearly thinking. Something weighing on her mind.

“Come sit.” She finally said, tapping on an empty desk at the front of the room.

Peter was reluctant, but he felt his feet carrying him to the front of the room all the same.

And after a pause, a brief beat of silence, his teacher spoke. “How are you doing, Peter?”

It was a loaded question; one he never knew how to answer. Yet, he wasn’t surprised she asked it. Everyone had been asking it these days. Peter hated it.

“I don’t know.” He finally mumbled, staring down at the worn desktop.

“I know you haven’t been paying attention in class, and you haven’t done your homework either.” She started, sounding kind and sad. 

Peter looked up from the desktop at that, scrunching his eyebrows together and wondering what she was getting at.

“I’m not bringing this up to berate you.” She continued, noticing the panicked expression on his face. “You are very bright, and I’m proud of you for coming to school even when it must feel like the most difficult thing in the world. I just need to know what _you_ need. How can I help you succeed?”

“I don’t know.” Peter said again, realizing he sounded like a broken record.

Ms. Warren pursed her lips. “I know you could do this homework in your sleep, Peter. You are the smartest student in this class. Why aren’t you doing it?”

 _Why do you think?_ The question made Peter feel slightly angry, but he welcomed the emotion. It was better than the numbness. The drifting. And after taking a few deep breaths and trying to collect himself, trying to make sure he didn’t yell at Ms. Warren, he said, “being at home is hard right now. And concentrating is really hard, so…” His words died in his throat, feeling awkward and insecure about revealing this much information to a teacher. He wanted more than anything to bolt from the classroom and put this embarrassing conversation behind him.

Ms. Warren nodded, clearly thinking things over. “I want you to know I wouldn’t do this for any other student, but I understand you are going through a lot right now. And I understand loss is especially hard during the holiday season. So, I’m going to give you an A in this course, God knows you probably don’t even need to pay attention to understand the material, after all. But please don’t share this information with any other student. I am only doing this because of your extenuating circumstances. Is that clear?”

Peter nodded vigorously. “Y-yes. Very. Thank you.”

“Your welcome.” Ms. Warren said, that pitiful look in her eyes Peter had grown to hate. “You better get home. Your aunt will be wondering where you are.”

Peter didn’t bother telling her that May was most likely unaware of time at all, locked in her bedroom until her alarm went off and she had to go to work. Instead, he mumbled a few more thank yous and left the classroom as fast as he could.

And in the small part of his brain that was capable of feeling those muted, far away emotions, Peter was thankful for Ms. Warren’s understanding and kindness. That was one less class he had to worry about passing.

⁂

The Parker’s had never been well-off. Sure, they had enough money to get by, but May regretfully never had the opportunity to send Peter to school with the newest clothes or phone. It was never bad, per-se, but between her and Ben, they didn’t make enough money to consider themselves middle class…not quite.

But now it _was_ bad. Really bad. Without the second—and better paying—income, they were going to have to move come January. Just looking at the finances filled May with an unrelenting swell of anxiety. Ben didn’t have good life insurance. It was a fact she had always known, but it was just a set of numbers in the back of her head, never thinking they would matter, at least not while Peter was still at home.

But then the unthinkable happened. And now it was just her. And Peter. Just them. And she had to pick up the pieces and try to care for the both of them on a nurse’s salary in a city that was stifling for the poor.

And the numbers weren’t adding up. She had enough for rent and utilities for the month of December, but not much else. How was she going to afford groceries for her growing boy? He seemed to be eating more than ever. How was she going to afford groceries for herself?

And…and…Oh God! How was she going to be able to get Peter anything for Christmas? She couldn’t let her baby go without anything for the holiday, she knew he was already worried enough as it was. At that thought, tears suddenly sprung to her eyes. Stressed, scared, worried, sad. Every negative emotion she could possibly feel was suddenly pulling at her, grasping for her attention. And for the fourth time that day, May Parker realized she was on the verge of another nervous breakdown.

Another hellish, horrible nervous breakdown.

She had the first one that night. The night the cops brought Peter home, wrapped in a shock blanket with blood on his hands and tears in his eyes. The moment they told her what happened, she began to hyperventilate. She felt like she was about to throw up.

The second one was when they put him in the ground. It felt final then. Like it was her last goodbye. And a part of her must have broken that day, because the breakdowns had been happening almost every day since. Relentless. They were relentless.

May knew she was scaring Peter. She knew he was trying to be brave for her. But she couldn’t control them. She couldn’t bury her emotions in times of trouble the way she used to. It was scary.

She ran her hands through Ben’s favorite blanket. It calmed her. A little. It still smelled like him, his shaving cream and shampoo and sweat all rolled into one. But she was worried. Worried for the day when it wouldn’t smell like him anymore. Worried for the day they would have to move apartments and the last of Ben’s things would forever be relegated to boxes stuffed in the back of closets and under their beds.

It had only been a month. One month. But time would flow on, the way it always does. And eventually Ben’s smell would only be a distant memory in the back of her mind. And eventually she wouldn’t be able to remember it at all. That’s the way these things always go. It was like that with her mother. It was like that with her sister. It would have been like that with her father had he not been such an abusive waste of space.

But closing the door on the memories of those you love had always been hard for May. And this time, it hadn’t proved to be any easier. Here she was, locking herself in the bedroom, day after day, letting her tears stain Ben’s blanket. Because she was grasping at something just out of reach. Because she wanted things to go back to normal.

But this was their new normal.

And that terrified her more than anything. 

⁂

Decorating for Christmas had always been a family affair. Ben would turn on his Christmas playlist, set up the tree, and make cookies while May and Peter decorated it. May always got out each ornament one-by-one, telling Peter the story of where they got it, what it meant to the family, and giving him the choice of where to put it, of course with suggestions and help when he was younger. 

But this year was different. And not in a good way. The twenty-fifth was only a week and a half away, and the apartment looked the way it did at every other point of the year, but with the unsettling addition of the empty spaces Peter had come to hate.

Peter couldn’t stand it any longer. Any of it.

He had to do something. He couldn’t stand the idea of Christmas morning arriving without even the tree up. And he knew May wouldn’t do it. She was at work right now, but Peter knew the second she came home she would lock herself in her room, and he would have to listen to her cry. Over and over again. Not being able to do anything.

Peter sighed. He’d never set up the tree on his own before, and just like everything else these days, it seemed like a monumental and insurmountable task. But he had to do it. He knew it would make May feel better, even if she wouldn’t admit it. It would be wonderful for her to come home and see the apartment look a little bit more like itself.

Making himself start was the hardest part. He didn’t want to think about past Christmases, something he knew was inevitable while facing the past so outwardly. He wanted to bury the memories. He wanted to forget. _Do it for May, Peter. Do it for May._ He reminded himself over and over as he got out the box that held their artificial tree.

Yet, as he pulled the tree out and began to haphazardly put it together—there were no written directions, probably lost years ago—he realized there was something missing. Ben’s Christmas playlist. He couldn’t remember a decorating session without it and doing it in silence felt wrong. It felt rude to Ben’s memory.

Ben’s old, trusty iPod was still in the top drawer of his nightstand. His uncle was always a little bit behind the times, preferring to buy his music instead of stream it. Peter couldn’t fault him; an iPod was a good improvement from the CDs people his age tended to favor.

There was a small film of dust covering it, proving to Peter that time knew no bounds. It just took and it took and it took. Relentless and never caring about the emotions of those left behind. Forcing the lump in his throat back down, he slammed the drawer shut a little too forcefully and went back in the living room.

None of this felt right. Alone in the apartment, putting up Christmas all by himself, listening to Ben’s playlist without Ben there to keep him company. And then it hit him, just as he began to wrap the beads around the tree. Peter was lonely. He had been doing everything all by himself the past month or so, drifting without the familiar presence of his uncle and aunt to guide him. Because it wasn’t just Ben that was gone, May was there physically, but she wasn’t there emotionally and mentally. It was a lonely feeling.

No! He wasn’t going to cry right now. He wasn’t. He’d been holding himself together so well the past couple weeks, he wasn’t about to let himself drown again, sink to the lowest depths of himself. The way he did in the aftermath of that fateful night. He could hold it together. He could be strong. He had to. For May.

But whatever semblance of self-control was left, shattered the moment I’ll Be Home for Christmas came on. It was Ben’s favorite Christmas song. He would always take a moment to stop the decorating and baking for it. Because in some cheesy, Ben Parker fashion, he always had to make the three of them sing it, despite the fact that none of them could sing. And afterwards, he would sit Peter on his lap and tell him the story of the song. It was written during World War Two. For the soldiers who couldn’t come home.

_Couldn’t come home Couldn’t come home._

Suddenly Peter longed for those moments again, more deeply than any other thing he’d longed for since his uncle’s passing. It was sudden and violent and intense.

And before he knew it, he was crying, the forlorn lyrics and music accompanying him. Because while Peter may have never thought about the lyrics before, he sure was thinking about them now. Drowning in their pain and longing. Because Ben would not be home for Christmas. Not ever again. And it hadn’t really hit Peter until that moment, that there were so many moments with his uncle that he’d taken for granted. Because he was a teenager. He was young. He didn’t think he needed to think about the consequences of life and death. Because death was for old people, and Ben had many more years—more Christmases—left to spend with him.

_I’ll be home for Christmas._

_If only in my dreams._

He didn’t know how long he sat there, crying and clutching the garland in his hands, listening to the song on repeat, trying to reach the one person who was unreachable. Trying to find a sense of normalcy that was no longer.

Eventually he collected himself, taking a deep breath and wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Peter stood and began again to decorate in earnest. And even though it was hurting him, hurting more than he could explain, he continued to remind himself this wasn’t for him. This was for May.

Because she was the last person he had left to love.

⁂

It didn’t look half-bad when he was done. And regardless, Peter was proud of himself. That he got through a complete nervous breakdown and still managed to get the tree up and hang the garland in the living room. It finally looked like Christmas at the Parkers and it made the empty spaces seem a little less oppressive. A little less desolate.

He felt useful for once.

May came through the door soon after that, and the last thing Peter expected was for her to burst into tears at the sight of it all, but that was what happened.

A pit formed in his stomach and Peter had the sudden thought that maybe she just wasn’t capable of putting Christmas up, but that she didn’t want it up either. After all, they were both chasing ghosts in their own ways.

“Does it look bad, May? I can take it down if you don’t want it. I just thought—”

“It’s beautiful, Peter.” She said through her tears, cutting him off before he could work himself into a frenzy. “I’m happy you did this. It just…it reminds me of him.”

“It reminds me of…it reminds me too. I—I…earlier…it was hard to put them up.” Peter said, finally settling on a sentence that didn’t hurt as much as the others that were in his head. On the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, honey.” May said, wrapping him in a hug. “You didn’t have to do it, you know.”

Peter shook his head. “Yes, I did. If I didn’t I…it wouldn’t _feel_ right.”

His aunt pulled back, seeming to study his features for a moment. Peter wondered if his eyes were still red from all the crying earlier. “Let’s sit down.” She said after a moment, leading him over to the couch. And after placing his hands in her own and looking him in the eye the way she did when she had something important to say, she began. “I want to apologize.”

“No, May. You have noth—” 

“Yes, I do, Peter Benjamin Parker.” She interrupted. And Peter chose to ignore how her voice broke on his middle name. “I’m sorry. Really sorry. I know I’ve been…absent for a while now. And…and I’m trying. I just want you to know that.”

Tears were streaming down his face, now. He knew it. He couldn’t stop it. “I know.”

“I love you, baby.” She said, pulling him into a hug as he began to cry in earnest. “And thank you, for all of this. It’s…thank you.”

If there were words to say to any of that, Peter couldn’t find them. Instead he buried his face in May’s shoulder and let himself cry. And for the first time since _that night,_ they didn’t cry separately—in their own little corners of misery—they cried together.

Together. 

It made him feel a little less alone.

⁂ 

The oppressive weight of grief was back, stomping on her chest. Making it hard to breathe. May had felt a little more open, more happy, yesterday. When she had come home to find Peter making way for Christmas. When she had come home to find him trying his best to go on as normal. But her night was filled with dreams of Ben. Disturbing dreams. As if her brain was trying to show her what Peter had seen.

Because she couldn’t get the image of his bloody hands out of her mind. She thought about it every day. It was so unsettling.

It wasn’t surprising then, that she decided to spend as much of the day as she could in her room, keeping the monsters wanting to well up inside her at bay. Keeping herself from feeling. Anything. Because if she went out, if she forced herself to do things, she felt like she would break in two. She felt like her already fragile and wounded heart would shatter to pieces.

She was trying. She was trying so damn hard. And this was all that she could do.

So, she spent the day obsessing over her finances, trying to find an extra dollar anywhere. Because she had to get Peter something for Christmas. She couldn’t leave him with nothing, especially not after what he did for her yesterday.

And if anything, May Parker was resourceful. It was something she had always prided herself on. After a while of searching and calculating, she was able to find forty-five spendable dollars. That was the max. If she went any higher than that, they wouldn’t be able to afford rent anywhere in the area—not even the cheap places—come January.

May sighed, rubbing her face in her hands. What could she buy for that amount of money? Sure, it was better than nothing, but she distinctly remembered Peter telling Ben he wanted the newest gaming console for Christmas.

 _Ben._ Just thinking his name sent the overwhelming feeling of loss and grief right back into her heart. How was she supposed to do this without him? Any of it? Parent Peter, buy Christmas gifts, clean the damn apartment when she was feeling like this…

She had talked to him about getting Peter the console back in October. The conversation simultaneously seemed like just yesterday and a thousand years ago. They were going to have to pinch pennies for it anyway, but now…there was no way she could afford it. She was going to have to explain their financial situation to Peter sometime soon. That is, if he hadn’t already noticed.

“How am I supposed to do this without you, Ben?” She whispered to the ceiling, hoping and praying that he would somehow hear her, even though she knew how impossible that was.

Eventually, May decided to stop feeling bad for herself and get back to work. She had to find Peter a present, no matter how hard guilt and self-pity were tugging at her and looming in the back of her mind.

Opening up her laptop web browser and typing in ‘Amazon,’ she realized it was probably the best place to start, especially since leaving the house felt impossible. Peter liked Legos, right? There were lots of cheap Lego options.

But after looking at a few sets, her heart sank. All the elaborate ones Peter liked to build with Ned were extremely expensive. It was ridiculous. All the ten and twenty-dollar ones were so basic, Peter and his genius brain could build them in his sleep. Nothing was working out and at this point, May wanted more than anything to just give up and not get him anything. But she had to be a good parent, even if that meant getting him one, forty-dollar Lego set and nothing else.

She had to find a way to look past herself and be thoughtful this holiday season.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It startled her. Pulled her out of her head faster than she would care to admit. But Peter would get it. He would help her out. Because even answering the front door of their apartment felt like a monumental task.

But after a few moments, the rapt sound of knocking came again. And after wondering why Peter wasn’t answering, May remembered.

_“I’m going out, May. I think I’ll be gone most of the day. Is there anything you need before I go?” Peter asked, poking his head in her bedroom door._

_“I’m fine, honey. Thank you.” She mumbled. And at that point, she hadn’t even left her bed yet, still wrapped in the covers, hair still a big tangled mess from the turbulent night she had._

_“Okay.” Peter answered, sounding unsure, voice wobbling._

A knock sounded for the third time, and that was the tip-off she needed to know Peter still wasn’t home. He never left anyone at the door for that long, being the courteous, kind boy he was.

Reluctantly getting to her feet and padding into the hallway, May made her way to the door, not wanting to answer it in any way, but knowing whoever it was, was persistent.

It turned out to be Leona Leeds, Ned’s mother. She was holding a pan of some sort, the delicious-smelling fumes wafting toward her. And instantly May knew what this was about. It was the type of thing that made her blood boil. Because all the texts, all the calls, all the impromptu visits made her want to scream. They just reinforced the thing she so desperately wished wasn’t real. The thing she so desperately whished to forget. And even though she knew friends and coworkers were simply concerned about her and Peter, she wanted more than anything for all of them to shut the fuck up and leave her alone.

She wanted her world to be normal.

“Is now a bad time, May? I can go…if you need me to.” Leona said, a critical eye looking over May. The kind of critical and pitying look she had come to hate.

May shook herself. “No…its okay. Come in.”

And as she was gesturing Leona to sit on their living room couch, May’s head was screaming at her. _Why did I say that? Why did I say that? Why did I say that?_ She didn’t want Leona in her house at all right now. Especially not today. Especially not any time since…then.

But somehow, she made it through a painful and grueling conversation about holidays without those you love, complete with pity and condolences galore. And Leona explained what she made for them, saying she realized it was difficult to cook and clean when you were grieving.

And then finally, _finally,_ she was gone.

And May was more exhausted than ever.

How was she going to make it to Christmas? No. How was she going to make it _through_ Christmas?

⁂

The store was too crowded for Peter’s liking. And for someone who grew up in New York City, that was saying a lot. But these days, everything felt stifling and crowded and like the walls were pushing in on him. Especially when he went out to stores and other vulnerable public places. Sure, he had the alter-ego of a masked vigilante now—not that anyone knew about it—but as Peter Parker, he still felt small and insignificant and scared.

The scared came after. After seeing his uncle sho—just… _after._

 _We’re not going to think about that, Peter._ He firmly told himself. After all, he didn’t come to this department store to torture himself with sick memories and horrible feelings, he came because May needed a Christmas present, and Peter knew there were some pretty, red shoes from this place she’d been eyeing up. He’d been paying attention to the things her eyes lingered on when they went out together, or the things she pointed out to him in passing. And he may or may not have checked her computer’s search history to see if there was anything she was thinking about getting herself.

It was a skill he learned from Ben. The man was the most thoughtful person Peter had the privilege of knowing, and that thoughtfulness came in so many different forms. It was something he was always teaching Peter about, something he said was a way to pass on his legacy. And his ideas about how to find the perfect gift for May never changed. He always wanted to surprise her.

_“You see, Peter, if you pay close attention to your lady when you’re out on the town, you can find the perfect gift.”_

_“How?” Peter asked, scrunching up his nose, glasses moving slightly and hitting his eyebrows. “I don’t even have a lady, Uncle Ben.”_

_His uncle laughed at that. And patting him on the shoulder, he said, “of course you don’t, Petey. Eleven-year-olds don’t need girlfriends.” He crouched to Peter’s level and looked him in the eye. “But this is important information for when you are older. For when you do have a lady. Or if, God forbid, you have to take care of May after I’m gone.”_

_Peter didn’t want to think about that last option at all. Sure, girls were scary, and they definitely had coodies, but none of that was as terrifying as having to take care of May all by himself._

_His uncle must have sensed his inner turmoil. “Let’s move on, Petey, you don’t have to worry about any of that right now. You’ll be well on your way to being an old man by the time I kick the bucket.”_

_Peter nodded, feeling far too young to be talking about death and old age._

_“Anyway,” Ben continued. “You need to watch her eyes and body language. What does she stop and look at? What brings a smile to her face? Those are the types of things you need to remember.”_

_“Because then I can give it to her as a present?” Peter asked._

_“Exactly, kiddo! Exactly!” Ben said enthusiastically. “A good surprise gift is one she’s been longing for.”_

Peter sighed. That conversation was only a few years ago, and now…and now he _was_ the one doing all of this. Peter felt overwhelmed. He wasn’t sure how to replicate any of Ben’s giving spirit. Especially since he only had twenty-five dollars to his name.

But he couldn’t let May go gift-less. After all, she was in this situation because of him.

All because of him.

And there his guilt was, welling up inside him again. Because he somehow couldn’t go a single day without it. It wouldn’t let him. It pounded against the walls of his chest, constricting and clenching and expanding far too often. And finding a way to let it escape from him proved unsuccessful. Very unsuccessful.

Ben was dead because of him.

 _Nope. Nope. Nope. Push it down, Peter. We aren’t thinking about this._ _You are here for May. Get the shoes and leave._

And to his surprise, it was getting easier to push the heavy feeling of guilt away. Easier than it had been in the beginning. The first few weeks after. Because if he just didn’t think about it, it was like it wasn’t there at all.

Finding the women’s dress shoes took a bit of wandering around, but eventually he found them in a large, open area sprawling a good portion of the second floor of the department store. And after scanning the area for a moment, he found them. The red, pointed toe high heels that May had seen in the display window as they walked by one day. They were shiny and new and there were even a pair left in her size.

_“Now, if its clothes, Pete, make sure to look in your lady’s closet and check what size she wears. You don’t want to mess that part up.”_

Smiling to himself as he took the box to the register, it didn’t even dawn on Peter that he forgot to check the price.

“Forty-nine ninety-five.”

Peter’s face fell, not comprehending. How could a pair of shoes be that expensive? “Wha—what?”

“Forty-nine ninety-five.” The bored looking cashier repeated.

“I—I—” Peter stuttered, fumbling with his wallet in hand. He only had twenty-five dollars!

“If you don’t got the money, kid, you need to leave. There’s a lotta customers behind you.”

“I—I’m sorry. I’ll go. I just—” Peter said stumbling over his words as he stuffed his wallet back into his pocket, a second away from booking it out the door.

“Wait.” Someone behind him said, grabbing his wrist just as he took his first steps away from the register.

Peter spun around, coming face-to-face with a tall, heavyset man with curly dark-brown hair. He was dressed smartly in an expensive-looking black suit and tie, giving off a commanding and no-nonsense aura. He almost seemed like a rich person’s bodyguard.

“I’ll pay.” The man said, looking Peter over as if to assess the situation.

Peter just gaped at him. He had no idea what to say. This just didn’t happen in real life, and especially not in this city, a place that was far too cold-hearted for anyone’s good.

Everyone was looking at them now. All commotion in the surrounding area stopped and the only sounds were Mariah Carey’s crooning voice over the speakers and shoppers in the distance.

“C’mon, kid. Let me pay for you.” The man said, walking him back a few steps to stand in front of the register. “Who are these for anyway?”

“My-my aunt.” Peter stuttered, wondering if this was all some weird dream his brain had come up with.

The man took a moment to inspect the shoes, looking them over with a critical eye. And after a moment, he smiled. “I’m sure she’ll love them.” 

Suddenly, Peter was overcome with emotion. Who was this stranger? Why did he care so much? None of it made sense. “Yeah. I’m sure she will.” He finally said, aware of the tears that so desperately wanted to come to the surface and make their way down his face.

“Here.” The man said, handing the cashier a crisp fifty-dollar bill along with some extra change for taxes.

The cashier looked just as startled as Peter felt, fumbling with the money as he rang the shoes up.

And as soon as the bag holding the box of shoes was handed to Peter, the man began to walk towards the exit, seeming to forget to buy his own items.

It was so strange.

“Wait, sir!” Peter said, struggling to catch up with the man. “Don’t you need to buy your own stuff?”

The man turned around and looked at Peter with an undiscernible expression on his face. “I bought exactly what I needed to.” He said after a moment, beginning again to walk toward the exit.

It took a moment for his words to sink in, but once they did, Peter felt a pang of guilt in his chest. This man forewent buying his own items just to buy some shoes for a random kid he’d never met before. 

“Wait, sir. I’ll—I’ll pay you back. I just—I don’t have the money right now, so I need your number.” Peter said, breathless as he scrambled to catch up with the man again.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’ve got it covered.” The man smiled. 

And then he was gone. 

Peter didn’t even get the chance to say thank you.

⁂ 

There was instant clarity, instant knowing, the moment May opened her eyes.

It was Christmas morning.

And unlike previous Christmases, ones where she was filled with joy and excitement to see the happiness on the faces of those she loved, the only thing she was feeling this year was a permeating sadness that stuck to her skin and made her feel dirty. A pit formed in her stomach and she realized she didn’t want to be around at all today.

It was going to be hard. That was for certain.

Because there wasn’t going to be a smile on Peter’s face. Instead, there would probably be tears. And the apartment would feel empty. Because their family wasn’t whole anymore. It was broken in a way that couldn’t be fixed ever again.

She didn’t want to get out of bed. Maybe if she went back to sleep, the day would be over, and she could forget this Christmas happened all together.

But she had to at least try and pretend. For Peter. And probably for her own sanity.

She made her way to the living room and found Peter already up. He was sitting on the couch, wrapped in blankets with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. For a moment, May could almost pretend things were normal, seeing him like that. Because for a moment, his glazed look and messy hair could be chalked up to the teenage tiredness that came from being awake too early and not the nightmares she knew had been plaguing him.

“Hi, honey.” She said, sitting down next to him. “Merry Christmas.”

He turned to look at her, and May found a forced smile on his face. It didn’t reach his eyes. She supposed she probably looked the same. “Merry Christmas, May.” He answered, voice void of emotion.

And for a moment, May didn’t know what to do. All their usual Christmas traditions seemed pointless now. Without Ben. They had already stopped a couple of them, after all. Their usual family outing to Midnight Mass was skipped out on, and they didn’t watch _The_ _Polar Express_ on the twenty-third either. Neither one of them wanted to try and replicate those things without Ben.

But Christmas came whether they wanted it to or not, and May had to find a way for them to create new memories together, even though it was frightfully and enormously difficult.

“Well, should we open presents?” Peter asked, pulling her out of her head.

May nodded. “We should.”

There were only three wrapped boxes under the tree. Two for Peter, and one she was assuming was for her. It was a sad and sorry sight. The two of them, sitting in front of a tree Peter decorated by himself, and three small boxes that made her feel the specter of poverty that was always looming in the back of her mind. She missed Ben every day, but today, sitting in the living room and looking at the tree made the feeling of grief come fast and intense. It was sharp and sudden and all-consuming.

And before she knew it, she was crying. Sobbing. And even worse, she was doing it in front of Peter. There was a reason she always cried in her room. She didn’t want him to hear. She needed to be strong for him. Because she was the adult. But now she was ruining Christmas by being like this. Because she couldn’t keep it together.

“Shhhh. I’m here, May. I’m here.” Peter said, sitting beside her and wrapping her in a tight hug. Rocking her back and forth as he repeated those words.

He didn’t say ‘it’s okay’. It would have been hypocritical to do so. Because it wasn’t. It wasn’t. And in that moment, May felt like it would never be okay again. Because Ben wasn’t here for Christmas. And there was no way they could get him back.

Eventually she calmed down enough to realize Peter had been crying with her, his eyes as red-rimmed and puffy as hers felt. “Oh, baby. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” She said sadly, wiping a tear from his cheek.

“It’s okay.” Peter said, pulling slightly away from her. “It’s better we got it over with, right?”

May sighed deeply. “I guess so.” And smiling in a way she knew wasn’t at all convincing, she said, “I think it’s time we opened the gifts.”

They made quick work of it. Peter opened his two, small Lego sets, and May struggled through an explanation about their money problems. Peter was thankfully gracious about it and didn’t complain. And she thanked God she had the kindest, most understanding nephew on the planet.

Then Peter handed her the final box. His wrapping skills weren’t perfect, but they were much better than hers were when she was his age. And after ripping off the paper, May expected some handmade gift or a little contract in which Peter would agree to do something for her—a common theme of gifts in the past—but what she didn’t expect were the red heels she’d been coveting for months now. Shiny and new and just her size.

“Peter…I…” May didn’t know what to say.

“Do you not like them?” Peter squeaked, scrunching into himself a little bit and looking insecure.

“What? Of course I like them, sweetheart!” She said, wondering how he could come to that conclusion. “Just…how did you know I wanted these?”

The color drained from Peter’s face at that, and May wondered what she had done wrong, wondered what she had said to make him act like that.

“Ben…he taught me.” He finally said, voice low and hesitant. He seemed seconds away from crying. “He taught me how to observe people and…and that way, you can find out what they like…and…um…buy it for them.”

“Oh, Peter.” She said after taking a moment to digest his words. “Oh, honey. Come here.”

And she held him tightly. She didn’t want to let him go. Because for the first time, she realized that Ben was alive in them. That he had a legacy and his actions bore fruit. That even though he wasn’t here with them in person, his words and actions and morals lived on. In both of them.

An impact. A life well lived.

Peter was crying heavily now. And she knew she was seconds away from tears too. But she was proud of him. Proud of her boy and who he was becoming.

“I am so, so proud of you, Peter.” She said wetly, hugging him as tightly as she could. “I’m so incredibly proud. And I know…I know that Ben is proud of you too. Wherever he is, he’s proud. I know it.”

It was the first thing May felt sure of since that night. The first thing that felt right. And maybe, just maybe Christmas wouldn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. Because May had Peter. Because they had each other. And Ben was there in a different way. A new way. He was with them in spirt. Watching over them.

And they were certainly broken, but they were also whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for the second, and final chapter of this little fic! There's going to be lots of irondad, so you wont want to miss it! :)  
> \--  
> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated. Feedback keeps me writing! :)  
> 


End file.
